


The Mid-year's

by Kuukkeli



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Celtic Inspiration, Fluff, M/M, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-07 08:15:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1891809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuukkeli/pseuds/Kuukkeli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wing shows Drift yet another, new side of his life, his culture, his city.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mid-year's

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hellkitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellkitty/gifts).



> Inspired by hellkitty's stories and celtic music. :) This is my very first Wing x Drift fic so please, be gentle. Minor OCs will appear.
> 
> Music that I thought to be fitting in the dancing scenes:  
> \- [Guardians of The Woods](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M2yEnzVVX5s)  
> \- [Winds of Freedom](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hTLEbErPl9I)  
> \- [Hero's Journey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IPCsUHKZEh8)  
> \- [Medieval Legends](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JNSJFz3KCQQ)
> 
> \- [Prophecy (the part when the tempo increases)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=INaM813ohL8)  
> \- [Fear no Darkness](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tWpe2ppRRGg)
> 
> \- [Immortal Land](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ttYc3EZlFFU)

He woke up with a start, his body shaking slightly, the blue optics darting across the ceiling, finally landing on the mech next to him. Good, he hadn’t even stirred. Okay, time to get up – didn’t need that recharge, anyways. 

He walked to the balcony doors, coded them open and stepped out, the air swirling against his warm plating. The city was still, quiet. He found it odd not to see a single mech walking the streets below. So it was late morning already, huh. How long did he actually recharge? Though, he had to admit it; Wing’s berth was the most comfortable place he had ever had for a recharge. 

Leaning his forearms against the railing, resting his chin on them, Drift cycled a heavy sigh. What am I doing here? This isn’t a place for me. Never has. And never will be. 

Hunched, the mech stared at nothing, really, part of him enjoying the quietness, the other hating it. Too much time to think about his situation. 

“Oh, you’re awake”, sounded the soft voice behind him, startling him. Drift turned around to see Wing at the threshold, a calming smile on those perfect lips. 

“Couldn’t recharge anymore”, was the blunt reply. 

“Another nightmare again?” The question was... soothing in its own way. This mech honestly cared. A rare occasion for Drift to have someone caring about him. 

A simple nod and the head was turned back to the city. 

Wing came and stood beside him, offering an unspoken comfort by stroking a few times the dark back. “It’ll ease in time. Just give it a chance, hm?” Pfft, yeah right. As in all the horrids happened in Drift’s life would just... vanish in time. Poof – gone. 

Snorting at Wing’s words, Drift retreated back inside, feeling his tanks give a demanding ping. He retrieved couple of cubes of energon to himself and Wing, handing the cube to the other who took it with gratitude. 

“Today’s the Mid-year, the greatest celebration in the city. Everyone’s excited and preparing for the evening.” 

Aah, so that’s why there was no one walking the streets – getting ready for some stupid party. Like it’d concern me, Drift thought bitterly. He huffed, as in signaling he couldn’t care less, downing his energon. 

“Every citizen is invited. Including you”, the jet turned to his friend. 

“Like I care.” 

The happy spirit, that seemed to cling to Wing, didn’t falter, even under the tone the words were spoken with. 

“The celebration is for joy. For pleasure. For life. We celebrate everything we have here.” 

Drift felt his frustration building – all those words Wing had said meant nothing to him. In the gutters, you had none of those. Just starvation, suffering, survival, trying to make it through the day. Only to repeat it in the next day. 

“Yeah? Well then, by all means, have fun partying”, he spat. 

The white mech’s joyous expression faded. “I thought you’d come with me, to celebrate with us.” 

“Read my lips: I. Don’t. Care”, Drift said and shot a deep glower to Wing who flinched, his wings fluttering in discomfort. 

Moments past in silence, the light getting sharper and brighter. 

“I have to go and make the last minute preparations so the Grand Plaza is ready for the evening. I’ll come back as soon as I can”, the jet finally said, heading to the door, his words hiding a lingering hope Drift would change his mind. Waving goodbye at the door, Wing slipped to the corridor. 

Left alone, Drift found himself bored already. He roamed the rooms, trying to come up with something to pass the time until Wing returned. 

He spotted a row of datapads on a shelf and rummaged through them. 

‘Energy channeling.’ Nope. 

‘How to reach peace of mind.’ Nuh-uh. 

‘Guide-lines towards better overload.’ Hell no! 

‘Untitled.’ Huh... A datapad without a title got the grounder’s curiosity. He shuffled to the berth and flopped down on his back, switching on the pad. His fingers danced across the green-blue screen, optics scanning the subtitles, looking for what might be interesting to read. The blue optics filtered the files and one title caught his attention; Drift. What the...? Has Wing been taking notes on him? If he has, then... why? To tattle to Dai Atlas? 

He flicked the file open and frantically read through the text. 

_[Day 167]_

_Drift keeps shooting daggers towards me. I know I’d be, too, if I was in his position._

_I just hope he’ll get accustomed to live here. If not permanently, then for at least until he’d figured out who he is and what his life goal is. And I’d love to help and guide him to the right path to achieve those things._

A new file. 

_[Day 389]_

_Today I took Drift to the Temple of Music. I think he enjoyed himself – he even fell into recharge._

_I wish Drift would smile more. It suits him better than the everlasting scowl. I’ve tried my best to make him smile but so far without results._

_Though, I won’t stop._

Another file. 

_[Day 414]_

_We practiced close combat and... it became very close combat. Drift feels so amazing and I have to admit he’s very talented with his hands. My plating is still tingling as I write this. The way his hands stroke my wings, my hips, my... Oh, dear. I have to stop thinking those kinds of things or soon I’m in trouble._

_As been mentioned, Drift is skilled on every aspect. I’d like to know him better and earn his trust. To earn his trust is my biggest aim right now._

Drift lowered the pad on his lap, his mind fallen blank. Did he read right? That Wing... no, it’s impossible. He’d never... Would he? 

His processor now anything but blank, the bi-colored mech sat up, his optics lowering to the pad and the file he just had read. Perhaps he should give Wing a chance... After all, the knight had saved his aft and taken him in and defended him when others in this wretched city would just scowl or look down their noses at him and turn their backs. 

He shuddered at the memory of the stares. The very same as those in Rodion... The memories came rushing back. Go away. 

Go away. 

Go. Away. 

“Drift?” 

The Decepticon startled at the sudden silky voice in the room. How long had he been sulking? Apparently long enough for Wing to return. 

“Are you all right?” 

Drift straightened his position, sitting upright and frowned. “Yeah. Why?” 

“I’m sorry but you looked...” 

“Looked what?” 

“Sad. Is everything truly all right?” 

The grounder huffed. Was this guy really worried over him? “Yeah, whatever. Like you really care.” 

Wing’s gaze dropped to the pad on Drift’s lap. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I see you found some reading.” 

“So?” 

“That pad is an untitled pad. And seems to me that you found my diary within it”, the white jet chuckled, reaching for the pad, his optics growing slightly wider as he saw the open file. “Oh... you were reading...” 

For the first time Drift saw Wing so... baffled and... embarrassed. 

Merely shrugging at that, the Decepticon flopped back down on the berth, crossing his fingers behind his head. “It was rather nice to read stuff like that. Haven’t known anybody think like that about me ever.” 

Wing’s golden optics rose to meet Drift’s blue ones. “No one has ever complimented you?” 

Another lazy shrug. 

The white mech didn’t say anything to that, holding the pad in his hands. “About the Mid-year’s. I’d be happy if you came with me”, he said, the familiar reassuring smile on his face again. Oh, how he hoped Drift came along. 

“Don’t care”, was the harsh reply. 

Wing didn’t give up so easily. “It’ll be fun, I promise. Perhaps you’ll get something out of it, too. At least you’d get out of here, from inside four walls.” 

What would Drift get out of some stupid spree? Bet it was just another boring session of meditating and people getting high on some smelling sticks, swaying to music which couldn’t be called music at all. Yeah, nothing more than that. 

But... on the other hand, Wing was right; he’d get out of here, to see something different than the same walls and decorations. 

“All right, fine. I’ll go with you. But if that... “celebration” proves to be nothing more than sitting still, I’m out.” 

Wing was overjoyed to hear the other mech would come, sure about Drift wouldn’t leave any time soon. “Wonderful. Shall we get ready, then?” 

Walking to a cabinet full of small boxes, containers and bottles, Wing took out a decorated can and a polishing cloth. “Since we’re going, I think it’d only be fair for us to look good”, he said and walked back to the berth, sitting down. He gestured the bi-colored mech to sit next to him. 

Drift eyed at Wing, canting his head, and then at the can, finally giving in. He sat next to the knight who opened the can and swirled the cloth in the polish before bringing it to Drift’s forearm, starting small circling motion, his other hand coming under the arm for support. 

Once finished with polishing Drift, Wing started mending his own plating. 

The Decepticon saw the other mech had difficulties reaching the center of his back, he hesitantly offered his help. “Let me”, he said bluntly, took the can and the cloth and rubbed the back platings and the wings with surprising gentleness. 

A relaxed sigh escaped Wing’s vocalizer as he leaned against the touch, his shoulders losing their tension and the wings gliding out of the way so Drift could polish beneath them. The flaps fluttered for a moment before settling calmly flat against the nacelles. The bi-colored mech fought the urge to plant a kiss between the exotic wings... Wait a minute. The space there was empty. Normally it would’ve been occupied by that oversized sword. 

“Where’s your sword?” he asked all of a sudden, pulling Wing from his musings. 

“I don’t need it now, do I? Besides, it is forbidden for us to carry any weaponry today.” 

Oh, yeah. Right. Today when it was all about joy and... and life and... Blergh. Drift made a face at those words. Good thing Wing didn’t see it. 

“All right. Done”, he grunted and dropped the equipment on the berth, the gesture signaling he was ready to go and get it over with. 

“Thank you, Drift”, Wing replied and flashed his trademark smile that would’ve lighten up a whole vault if he really wanted to. “Shall we go then? We can stop by at an energon house and have a moment before going to the celebration. What do you say?” 

As if I’d have any say to that, Drift thought and vented a puff of air through his vents. 

With that, the two mechs left Wing’s apartment and headed to their favorite energon house. 

\---- 

Drift sat at the round table, waiting for Wing to return with their energons. He crossed his arms over his chest, tapping the armor impatiently. Feeling a pair of optics on him, he looked up and saw two mechs taking a brief glance at him and sharing a hushed conversation – no doubt about the bi-colored mech. 

_I feel bad for Wing for taking him in. Bet he’s trouble._

_Yeah. He is a Decepticon, after all._

_It’d been better if he stayed where he belongs – among his own kind._

It took all of Drift’s will power not to stand up and introduce his fist to those two mechs’ faces. Good thing the white knight was making his way back. 

“I apologize, Drift. I met Rigél inside and had to exchange a few words with him”, the mech beamed, placing one cube in front of Drift and took a seat on the other side of the table. The Decepticon gave a short glare at him, sipping from his cube. 

Sour with a hint of sweetness, sharp aftertaste. Just as he liked it. Jerking his chin, he thanked the other mech for the energon. Wing toasted at that with a warm smile. 

Drift remained silent, watching the mechs hustle by. There was unusual air about him that bothered Wing. “Is... something wrong?” 

Snapping his attention to the mech across the table, the grounder masked his anger by taking another sip of his energon, hoping the cube was enough to hide his dour expression. “No. Why?” he asked after downing the mouthful of energon. 

Wing shook his head. “You just seemed troubled.” 

“Don’t I always?” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” the white mech asked with earnest sincerity. 

The other thought for a moment, biting at his cheek. “Not really”, he huffed, turning his head back to the street to get his mind rid of the muffled words he just heard across the terrace. 

The knight played with his cube, watching the blue liquid swirl and ripple, deciding not to push the other mech further and taunt him with something he obviously didn’t want to discuss about. He clearly saw something was on Drift’s mind; it could be felt in his EM field as it flared and contracted every once in a while and when the white mech would extend his own field, Drift’s was pulled tightly against the bi-colored body. Wing made a note that he’d figure out what was going on but not today. 

“You know, I have a small surprise for the evening”, the jet said, looking for optic contact. 

Drift gave a sidelong glare at him, his interest lifting its head as much as he hated it. 

Wing couldn’t help the grin emerging on his lips. “I won’t tell any more, otherwise it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?” 

Grunting at that, the Decepticon drank the remaining energon. Wing followed in suit, though much slower, savoring the taste. Pfft, so Wing – doing everything in slow mo. Sometimes Drift wished he could take it slow and in fact enjoy the moment, too. Too bad the habits from the time being in the Decepticons ran deep and such indulgences were rare if not nonexistent. Especially when Turmoil was in bad mood. 

The white mech tried to initiate conversations but they all died as Drift would only give either short answers or stay mute. 

After stretched amount of time and silence, Wing had finished his energon and signaled the other for leaving. 

“Where to now?” 

“Since the day is beginning to turn towards evening, I suggest we head for the Grand Plaza to get a view of the place of celebration.” 

Shrugging at that, Drift retreated to his thoughts, not really paying attention to his surroundings... except to the mech beside him. He dared a quick over all glance at the white mech; at the audio flaps that were against the head, relaxed, at the nacelles, the waist, the skirting plates that swayed nicely with the rhythm of Wing’s steps. He _almost_ fell a few steps back to get a better look at the hips. Almost when he felt the golden optics on him. 

Heat crept on his face and Drift quickly tore his gaze from the other, trying to look normal and stare straight ahead. 

“You can watch if you want. I don’t mind”, came the gentle string of words. 

Despite the permission, the bi-colored mech kept his optics fixed to the distance, hearing a chuckle next to him... and a hand behind his palm, the fingers brushing against the rough surface before lacing the digits together. 

The grounder shot a confused scowl at Wing and then at their joined hands. 

“Why?” 

“Why not?” 

To that, Drift didn’t have an answer and let the jet hold his hand – even though it might’ve looked weird. And to add the awkward feeling, they were in _public_! If someone was seen like this within the Decepticon ranks, the one would’ve ended up having a bullet in their head. 

To have someone hold his hand so... effortlessly and without shame... It was new to Drift. It was something he had never knew to exist. And yet it felt... nice. 

They took a long route to the Grand Plaza, Wing showing Drift place he never had seen before; the Weeping Gardens, the Crystal Vaults and the Old Crystal City they had built based on ancient documents and reports. 

By the time they arrived their destination, it had gotten dark, only the remnants of the fading day to be detected on the artificial sky; purple, orange, yellow. 

There were already mechs gathered to the opening, greeting each other good mid-year, friendly chatting filling the air. There were tall poles with a bowl on top them, each having a glowing crystal in it, illuminating the place with eerie but somehow welcoming light. Wing guided Drift to wait near a large fire place, excusing himself and rushed off. 

Left alone, the Decepticon felt so out of the place, measuring the mechs around him with his optics until he spotted a dark form in one group. The dark mech noticed Drift and waved him over. He sighed, annoyed, but walked to the group, nonetheless. 

“Good Mid-year, Drift. Long time no see”, Axe rejoiced, patting the smaller mech on the back. “I see Wing had something urgent to do. Oh, right. Drift, this is Nightingale, Ion and Ashrain”, he introduced the four mechs to each other. Every three of them nodded and smiled. Genuinely. 

“Nice to meet you, Drift”, the ash gray mech grinned and shook Drift’s hand. 

“All right, you don’t have to act like you’d like me”, he snapped at the taller mech. 

Ashrain shared a worried look with the rest of his trine and Axe, mouthing ‘did I do something wrong?’. To that, the dark knight shook his head but before he could pull Drift aside to have a word with him, the doors of the grand building on the edges of the Grand Plaza opened and Dai Atlas walked out. 

The masses started walking towards the center where the fire place was and Axe gestured his company to do the same. Some were standing and others already sat down in a circle. 

“Citizens. We have been granted yet another year of peace in Crystal City, all thanks to Primus and his Guardians”, echoed the elder knight’s voice. “Tonight, we have gathered together to celebrate the Mid-year. Let this night be remembered and filled with joy.” 

With that, the crowd erupted to applauses and cheers, finally the rest of them taking a seat on the ground. 

Drift sat down, too, with Axe on his left side and Ion on his right, his trine mates next to him. His attention was drawn by a mech who came into view, igniting the ends of his rods. 

The rods were spun around fast, the fire humming loudly as the mech made circles, figure-8s, loops and whatnots with them, even throwing them in the air and catching them, only to repeat the complicated choreography. 

Corona, Axe told Drift, was an exceptional performer, especially in fire dancing. The way he twirled one of the rods around down his raised arm and over one shoulder to another and how fast he could spin the rods behind and beside him until the fire seemed to form a constant blazing ring, was hypnotizing. 

The show captured Drift entirely, his optics following the mech’s as well as the rods’ movements. Something in this extraordinary– 

The fire dancer blew to the little flames and they exploded into a huge fire ball, lighting up the gas that was flowing beneath the fire place with a thunderous roar. Drift jumped and tumbled back. Axe laughed and helped him to sit back up. 

Corona earned massive cheers and shouts of joy, bowing to the crowd. He thanked his audience and disappeared to the shadows. 

There were mechs roaming through the crowd, offering cubes of high grade. Axe took one and thanked the mech with a tray. Drift followed his example, though keeping his optics firmly away from the handsome waiter which didn’t go unnoticed for the dark mech. “Don’t be so bashful, Drift. There’s no need to be”, he chuckled and clinked his cube with Drift’s. 

The Decepticon sipped from his cube and was pleasantly surprised by the taste. Bitter yet sweet. 

“Not being bashful. Just... not used to this kind of...” 

He fell silent. 

“Treatment? Don’t worry, lad. You will – eventually”, the knight smiled at him and turned his face to the center as bunch of musicians began to play. 

The melody caught Drift’s attention. It was... calming yet it promised something better. 

His optics grew wider when he saw a mech step into sight. White and red glimmered in the red light the fire emitted. But the golden orbs were the ones that really struck him. Deep. 

Wing. 

So that’s why he rushed off a while ago. 

The jet’s movements were subtle, gentle, small. But they spoke more than that. His hands made loops and arches while his feet glided against the ground, nearly floating. Drift knew Wing was graceful, all right, but he never thought anything like _this_. Pure poetry of body and motion.

Axe glanced at him and smirked. “Lad...” 

Drift didn’t hear him, flinching when the larger mech closed his mouth with one finger, not noticing his jaw had fallen open. Even that didn’t make him tear his gaze off of Wing. 

The flutes, the tambourine, the harp, the drums... Every instrument was played in perfect harmony. 

Wing danced with his spark’s content and the look on his face only confirmed his euphoria, his optics closed as he made his way around the fire place, making sure everyone saw. 

The dance was over way too soon for Drift’s taste when the rhythm and tempo changed all together, the drums now more aggressive. 

Someone joined Wing and started circling the smaller mech, his hand sliding over his abdomen and ribstruts. The bi-colored mech felt a spike of jealously surging through his systems but he fought it back. It was only a performance, nothing to get fretful about. Still, it gnawed at him... 

The jet’s stare to the other was intense as he mirrored the other’s movements, the duo rounding each other a few times. Then they separated but the movements remained the same; stomping to the drum beat, hands on hips. Drift’s drink was long forgotten at this point. 

The dance was short but intimate in a way if you could say. 

Wing walked towards Drift after bowing deeply to the crowd, accompanied by cheers, Axe scooting aside to make room for him to sit down in the middle. 

“So? What did you like my little surprise?” he asked, hot air ghosting against Drift as the white knight’s vents cooled down his body. 

The grounder was rid of words so Axe came to his rescue. “Lad couldn’t stop staring at you.” 

“Really?” Wing asked, his optics radiating with overt joy. 

Drift felt embarrassed for being busted but Wing looked so happy to know. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad thing, after all. 

Wing settled more comfortably between Drift and Axe, steading his vents. “The first dance was about Guardians of Crystals, the second told a story about freedom”, he said as he watched as a lithe mech danced. 

The melody was soothing and beautiful, truly a hero’s journey. 

Many different dances were danced and Wing attended some of them, as well as Axe and the trine. Drift refused to be dragged along and stayed in his place, secretly enjoying Wing dancing. 

Suddenly, a mass of mechs gathered in the center, forming a long row, hands resting on waists. They stood still as in waiting for a sign. Wing ran to Drift and pulled him up, ignoring the protests the bi-colored mech shouted. They came to stand to the row, the white mech guiding him to put his hands on his waist. The music began, fast and powerful. 

“Copy my movements. Can you do that?” he yelled over the music and the rhythmic stomping. 

Drift was way out of his comfort zone but nodded, anyways. He scanned the pattern Wing’s legs and feet made until he noticed his own were doing the same. 

The tempo increased but Drift didn’t have any difficulties to keep up. Wing turned to face him and he did the same. A wide grin spread on the white mech’s face, as in reassuring Drift. 

He never had felt like this. The intensity of the music and dance, the power it sent through his body... It all felt... magnificent! 

The dancers ended with a final stomp, heads held high and proud, vents whirring. 

As Wing and Drift returned to their spots, some of the mechs stayed when the music changed again, this time to more... cheerful and free and light. The smile on Wing’s face didn’t falter – instead it got even bigger, the mech clapping to the music. 

Axe asked him for a dance, reaching his hand out for Wing to grasp it. With a bright laugh, the smaller mech rose and skipped to the center, Axe taking both of his hands into his own large ones. Many mechs did the same and chose a partner. 

As it proved, there wasn’t any exact order in the dance; everyone danced how they felt in their sparks. What Drift could see, the dance was about... happiness? Either way, it was nice to watch. A small smile crept on Drift’s face before he could register it to happen. It was the music. The atmosphere. The sight of Wing being happy. Take a pick of which caused Drift’s smile. To him, it was all those. 

The dance partners bowed to one another, thanking for the dance. 

The evening had turned into night and the night cycle into very early morning, the artificial sky still pitch black. The celebration was ought to last the whole night until the break of dawn. 

Now the music was a whole lot different than any other Drift had heard. It was much calmer and it wormed its way under his armor, rattling his spark. Wing sat beside the grounder, leaning against him and resting his head to the white spaulder. His EM field was filled with serenity, pleasant urge and warmth but above all, peace. 

Drift hesitated for a moment before tipping his head to rest on top of Wing’s, his smile not disappearing, his hand searching for the other’s to grasp. With the offered gesture of closeness, the white mech took it with huge gratitude, a single tear rolling down his cheek as he straddled the other. 

The Decepticon was baffled when Wing buried his face into his neck, his body shivering. “Wing...?” he asked, his hands carefully placed on the white hips. 

Wing straightened himself enough to look the other in the optic, wiping the spilt tears away, giving a laugh. “I’m fine. It just... You finally smiled”, he said, despite his efforts, more tears streaming down his perfect face. 

Although Wing looked beautiful like this, Drift still preferred the smile. “Stop crying, Wing”, he ordered softly, his lips brushing the white mech’s, filling his own field with comfort and awkward affection. “You’re prettier when you smile.” The truth. A shameless, coming-right-from-the-spark truth. 

The white knight closed the gap between them, beginning a dance of their own. 

Axe and the trine shared a meaningful glance and left the two mechs alone, the Grand Plaza slowly getting emptier from mechs as they all headed home, others to rest, others to... celebrate more. 

Drift answered the challenge with suppressed eagerness, not wanting to ruin the moment with his wanton need for Wing. His whole world shrunk to the mech in his lap. 

Deepening the kiss, Wing pushed the other mech down on his back, letting the dark hands roam over his armor. The grounder’s hands came to the white hips, pulling him until their pelves were snugly pressed together, a quiet moan rolling from Wing’s vocalizer. 

Wing broke the kiss, his optics dimming. “And now”, he purred, “we celebrate pleasure.” His voice was perfectly even but his EM field betrayed him, swelling with desire, licking at Drift’s. 

“Here?” 

“No.” 

With that, Wing freed Drift and helped him up. 

“Back at _our_ place.” 

The white mech’s nacelles whined, activating, before they roared to life. “I don’t think we’d manage to walk back”, he chuckled, opening his arms for Drift. The Decepticon grunted but accepted to be carried in the other’s arms, wrapping his arms around Wing’s neck. 

Once securing the grounder in his arms, Wing took off, the air screeching past Drift’s audios. His HUD filled with alarms of lack of solid ground under his feet; he didn’t like this but the surge of raw sexual want that coursed through him overcame the fear quickly. 

“Are you all right?” Wing asked, the thrumming of his engines vibrating against Drift. 

The bi-colored mech simply nodded. I will be better once I’m put back down, he added though not saying it out loud. 

Lucky for him, the flight didn’t take long for Wing hurried his engines to the maximum speed. Soon they arrived at the balcony of _their_ apartment, Wing’s feet touching the surface, lowering the Decepticon down. Drift’s knees buckled a little – he was so _not_ going to do that again! The white jet supported him by hooking his arm under Drift’s armpit and walked him in to the berth. 

Drift sat down, pulling the other with him, locking their lips again. Wing was more than happy to oblige, climbing on top of him, hands already looking for surface to touch, seams to dip in. 

“There would’ve been other ways to celebrate pleasure”, Wing murmured against the light gray lips. 

“This seemed the most obvious one”, was the growly reply, the lips eager. 

“Can’t deny that.” 

The jet ushered Drift to lie down, while he his hands glided down the ribstruts, over the abdomen and all the way to the gray thighs, mesmerizing the texture and the feeling. A low purr welled from the mech under him, surrendering to the touches. 

“Feeling good?” 

All Wing got for reply was a long sigh. He could sense Drift’s rising heat and arousal for his EM field pushed demandingly against his. 

The dark fingers danced on the armor, sparking tiny spikes of pleasure, tipping the Decepticon’s world upside down temporarily. Involuntarily, his body arched to the touch, back rising from the berth. Suddenly, touches ceased, the blue optics cracking open to look at Wing. 

“Why’d you stop?” 

“You’re so beautiful”, was the honest answer. 

Before Drift could say anything to that, his lips were covered with the incredibly soft ones of Wing. He never would’ve thought that a one simple kiss could get him this revved up for his interface equipment clicked online, the familiar tingling sensation spreading throughout his body to his field, feeding Wing’s hunger. 

The white mech settled between the dark thighs, asking, waiting for permission to proceed. He saw Drift stagger, his optics showing a hint of fear. Wing sat back on his feet, hands rubbing the thighs.  
“I won’t hurt you, Drift, and you know that, don’t you”, he said softly, his voice promising the mech won’t do anything the grounder wouldn’t want. 

He chewed at his bottom lip, weighing the options he had; to keep going or to stop it here while they can, with no hurt feelings. Ultimately, his body relaxed as much as it could, permitting Wing to continue. 

The jet gently started kneading at the panel between the still tense legs, his senses tuned to pick up any sign or change in Drift’s body language or EM field to stop. When nothing came up, Wing pressed a tad harder at the panel, the bi-colored mech’s legs twitching slightly. 

“Again”, he growled. 

And so Wing did as he was told, though the panel slid aside unexpectedly, his fingers sinking past the valve lips, causing Drift to flinch. 

“Sorry”, the white knight apologized, his field soothing, pulling the fingers out. 

Drift hissed as the fingers retreated, the sudden feeling of intrusion easing off, the palm against his valve warm and safe. He couldn’t believe he was willingly doing this – this exact situation normally was the source of his horrible, disgusting memories he’d rather keep suffocated. His body trembled as the images of unwanted scenes flew past his vision, his engine giving a loud growl, startling the white mech. 

Wing hugged him, kept him close. 

As simple act as a hug calmed Drift. 

He hated to be so weak. He hated for not being able to fight his memories from surfacing. Wrapping his arms around Wing’s neck, he hid his face to the crook of his neck, a low whimper escaping him. 

“Everything’s all right. We don’t have to do this”, Wing murmured, stroking one of the white spiky finials, feeling the mech under him uncoiling from the tension. 

“No... I want...” 

Wing nodded in understanding, his fingers returning to touch the moist opening, tender and careful. The grounder squirmed as the touching came back but entirely better this time, building his charge up slowly. 

Drift bucked his hips slightly, needing more touch, _craving_ it. 

One finger was inserted, the digit exploring the walls, searching nodes to stimulate. A gasp escaped from Drift’s lips, the valve trying to clench around the finger, the attempt futile, though. Soon it wasn’t enough. 

“More”, the Decepticon groaned, submitting to the other mech, giving his body to Wing entirely, from his own free will. 

Obeying, the knight slipped another finger in, the tightness now more apparent as the two fingers pushed deeper, curling and uncurling. Drift whimpered again, his processor swimming between aroused and disgusted, though eventually tipping towards aroused as the fingers made ‘come hither’ motion, stroking the nodes. 

A chirr rumbled from Wing as his fingers were squeezed and a sudden rush of warm lubricant coating them. Drift arched from the berth, a choked moan straining his vocalizer as overload rolled from his body, his field lax and reeking of satisfaction. 

The fingers were pulled out once again, their owner positioning himself properly between the trembling legs. The grounder followed him intently, his gaze falling on the white and red spike as it was freed from its housing. 

“Still willing to do this?” the white mech asked to be sure he wasn’t crossing any strict lines. 

Drift nudged the spike with his hips, smearing fluids on the underside of the shaft, the tip almost sliding in. 

Then it hit Wing. Drift trusted him. Trusted him enough to take the lead. The knight was beyond grateful, kissing the Decepticon, showing him he was worth the fragile trust. Trust that would get stronger and deeper with time. 

The spike nosed the opening, as in hesitant about entering. When an impatient whine was caught by his audios, Wing slowly eased himself in, spreading the lips apart along the way, feeling the calibers struggling to adjust to the new invader that was remarkably bigger than the fingers. Drift shut his optics tight, trying to focus on the spike and not on the memories that once again bubbled their way up to his consciousness. 

Wing sensed the flutter of the bi-colored mech’s field and deepened the kiss, his tongue pressing against Drift’s, both of them groaning. The spike was still going, slowly and surely to the hilt. 

Once completely in, the white mech broke the kiss to look Drift in the optic, hot air blasting out of his vents as he was enveloped by the snug heat. Grinding against the valve before pulling back, Wing wanted Drift to feel as much as he possibly could. 

Drift realized Wing wasn’t taking – he was giving. Giving him pleasure; safe, gentle and trusting pleasure. And the Decepticon took that with gratitude. 

Hooking his legs around Wing’s hips, Drift sunk the spike deep, the slightly swollen head nudging his ceiling node. 

“Nnh... Wing...” 

“Good?” the jet asked as he started slow and filling pace, his hips rocking back and forth, his spike gliding over every single node within Drift. 

“So good”, Drift moaned, moving his hips up to meet the thrusts. 

Wing rolled his hips in steady pace, drowning into Drift’s pleasure, drinking it like the sweetest nectar, wanting to feel the other mech. 

Drift snaked his hands behind the white mech’s back, fingers running over the quivering wings, tracing the seams and lines, earning a sharp gasp from him. Doing it again, the grounder added a little amount of pressure this time, pinching a wingtip. 

The jet leaned forward to seal their lips together, continuing the calm rhythm of his thrusts, drawing this out, building up the charge. Drift uttered a muffled moan and clung to Wing as his overload closed in on him, his spike jutting between their hot bodies, being caught against two abdomens, the seams rubbing against it in all the right ways. 

The Decepticon’s right hand gripped the spike while his other hand played with the wing, starting a harsh pumping over the shaft. Wing noticed Drift’s desperate effort to overload, bringing his other hand to take the white hand and black fingers into his own, slowing down the frantic handling. He adjusted their hands to move to the pace of his thrusts, gentle and even; thrust in, pump down. Pull out, stroke up. 

“Drift...” the white knight gasped, his hand tightening around Drift’s hand, applying more pressure to the throbbing member. The pattern was repeated until Drift felt a strong push somewhere deep behind his spike, transfluids jetting from the slit to land on his abdomen in glistening silver stains. 

As he rode his overload, the pulses of charge surging through his sensornet, Drift pulled Wing closer, his valve clenching around the spike that so perfectly fit inside him, milking the load of fluids that erupted to drench even more the slick valve walls. 

They both trembled as their overloads subsided, leaving them to bask in the afterglow, mouths open to aid the vents that were already straining in highest notch. 

Wing brushed the backs of his fingers down Drift’s cheek, caressing the smooth surface. In his mind, Drift was absolutely beautiful and deserved to be loved in every way even though the other didn’t agree with him. 

Pulling out of Drift, Wing planted many kisses along his abdomen and chest before settling to lie down next to him, their legs tangled together, the grounder’s head resting on the white chest. He lifted one hand to Drift’s head, fingers stroking the base of the finial lazily, yet affectionately. Tipping his head to the touch, Drift closed his optics, a weak purr rumbling from his core. 

Yes. This was good. This is how it’s supposed to be the whole time. Now Drift could forget the outside world and all its struggles and fights, even for a short moment, here, with Wing. 

In his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, crap. I'm so bad at writing dancing scenes. In fact, this was my very first one. *hides under bed* And this story shouldn't have had any smutty scenes in the first place. It just... happened...


End file.
